


i will burn for you.

by valvet



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, First Kiss, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the usual dr. stanley emotional constipation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:34:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valvet/pseuds/valvet
Summary: "When cutting open a vein, he had noticed, it only took a little slice of it to make it spew everywhere, that could be the same about him as well."
Relationships: Harry D. S. Goodsir/Stephen S. Stanley
Kudos: 7





	i will burn for you.

With all the knowledge that Stephen knew, understood and claimed for himself, all the things he had been taught by doctors before him, he was certain he wasn’t well. It was a blatantly obvious fact, something that shined right in his eyes every time he tried to sleep, anytime he conversed with another and more importantly, anytime he was made to indulge in the endless dredge of life. Many times a man’s outward disposition towards the world changes inside his ribs, but for him, it never did, the pessimism and cynical outlook didn’t change even within his stomach, it’s that the ice had made it more obvious. 

At least before, most men he had met could take the assumption that he had some happiness behind his hollow eyes, the men he had taught before Terror believed that at least.

Harry Goodsir, even with all his ability to wonder and radiate joy within the frozen hell, did not.

To lie was easy, but to have a man believe it, was a different story. 

The time spent between them became drawn out at points, and this night was no expectation, the “summer” they had was still bitter, still lonely as ever, even within the confines of the public area. Nobody had gotten hurt, not yet at least, Stephen knew that would change eventually. Harry was sat by himself, reading quietly, it was all he did now, asides from the awkward chatter they’d engage in, Stephen made sure nothing would happen, that no friendly discussion would be had. 

While Stephen, as he did everyday for the past few days -- or weeks, stood over a corpse, he couldn’t quite remember who or what had died, all he knew exactly was that it had been the only thing grounding him.  
  
His daughter had taught him about that -- grounding yourself in stressful situations, even if he couldn’t remember her name, or her face, he knew what she had told him, how her voice sounded like bird chirps.

“It’s important to count while doing it,” He remembered she worked as a nurse, he couldn’t say where, but she was a damn good one, taught her well “It keeps your mind on track, your brain can’t focus on more than one thing at a time, helps relax,”

Her original intent had been lost in the bloated corpse of what used to be a person.

“Doctor Goodsir,” Stephen couldn’t say why he said the other man’s name, but he needed something -- anything to keep him from wanting a death like the horrid flesh before him. “What did you do before boarding?”

He looked up from his book and stammered slightly, he knew what he was going to say -

“Not your studies, personal life, if you would,”  
  
Harry closed his mouth, and looked down.

“I lived in Scotland before my studies, born there as well...I mostly uh -- kept to myself even after I left -- I engaged in beach searching mostly, catching crabs and such…”

“I see,” He wasn’t looking at him still, having to comprehend him would make the pain -- the ache in his body worse. “Had you married?”

Stephen couldn’t remember his wife’s face, and he didn’t wish to, lying came easy to him now after all, it was only natural that he’d weave himself into a life that kept him from the bowels of hell. Albeit it seems the pits had already found him here upon Earth.  
  
“I...No -- Nobody had fancied me, and I didn’t uh...pursue it,” Pity, if he was a younger man (a better man), he would’ve…

Well, he wouldn’t want to think about that.  
  
“Had you, Doctor Stanley?”

“I had...It was pleasant I suppose,” It was over with as well, his wife died a quiet death, she left without a trace, perhaps it was a horrible thing to admit to himself, but he didn’t mind it.  
  
At least then, the house was quiet, he always liked that.

“I didn’t give it much thought,” He added, “She’s since passed,”

“Oh...I’m sorry to hear,” Stephen clenched his jaw, pity is not what he needed.  
  
“Had gone in her sleep, again, I pay it no mind,” He looked to him, “And neither should you,”  
  
Silence, at that.  
  
It would continue like this until the candlelight began to dim, and Harry’s movements began null and void -- he shouldn’t have looked, his already existing technique worked well enough, albeit he couldn’t remember what he had been exactly doing for the past two hours, he knew he was “safe”.  
  
But, most men die from their own stupidity, and so would he it seemed; the entirety of his chest grew with heat, Harry had managed to fall asleep, neck craned back and mouth shut, the only breathing he had coming from his nose, his chest rose and fell quietly.  
  
Stephen remembered the first time he felt like that -- this growing heat that made his ribs shake, Harry had done that to him the first time he had asked for something, the trip only at its beginning stages, his irises moving around quickly as he had fiddled with his hands. 

“Do you know if somebody had taken my sheets?” 

Smiling always felt wrong to him, especially nowadays when everything was coated in misery, but he had. A small crease on his lips before returning to his given, blank slate.

“I had brought them to be cleaned, Mr. Goodsir,”

That’s when he decided never to look Harry in the eyes, after that he gave out useless prayers to whoever was keeping notes on him.

Now of course, times had changed, both of them had, even Harry Goodsir, a man who had been bred specifically with the ever-existing thought of life turning up roses, had become tired, his once creaseless eyes were as hollow as his.  
  
Perhaps it was pity that made him get up, but he did, a sheet on one hand and a pillow from one of the beds in another, gently putting it behind Harry’s neck and the sheet loosely hanging off his body.

He looked down at him, and again, his heart was warm.

Stanley had never kissed his wife during their wedding night, nor did he ever do that during the times of intimacy. But…

He placed a kiss to his fingertips (to do that to Harry...it would might as well kill him more than himself) and put it to Harry’s forehead, then, his hand didn’t leave, his warmth getting sucked up through his fingertips, without a thought, he kissed his forehead, fully, with much regret. 

(The only time he had kissed like this was only to his daughter as a young girl, a girl who was still afraid of the dark and needed a kiss to the head to be proved that it wouldn’t hurt her anymore.)  
  
The speed he went to get himself away was beyond his own scope of vision, he was a selfish man, and he’d never change apparently. A hand over his own mouth, before turning around on his own feet, perhaps sleep would solve it (oh who was he kidding, sleep barely came to him anymore, a spectre that haunted him, but never to scare him to death.)

“Mhm, thank you, Mr. Stanley,” Harry’s voice was still soft as ever, over his shoulder he saw him with a small smile, before closing his eyes again. 

Like a candle, he was burnt down to the wick just at that.   
  


* * *

  
Another two days went by, a horrible time filled with sleepless nights and having to stare at walls for hours on end. People may have called it days, it felt more like borrowed time to him (he wasn’t supposed to be here anyways, this place didn’t want them in the first place). The cold bit at him viciously everytime he closed his eyes, forcing him into his own knowledge of what was around him. 

“Dr. Stanley?”  
  
He had still been in his room, what time had it been now? It didn’t matter, the idea of getting up made him feel sick to his stomach, another dredge that involved having to suffocate others around him, having to see that white sheet of misery.

Harry poked his face through the door, a deer in headlights as his leg jittered about, it was so difficult to even look at him, keeping his eyes down at his shoes.

“Yes, Dr. Goodsir?” It was so obvious to his misery.

“Can I...talk to you?” Stephen didn’t even move, he just nodded slightly before Harry came in, hands in his own hands, twitching about as he smiled.

“Shut the door, Harry,” If he was to scold him, then he’d much rather prefer nobody else to his own sins. 

When he came back around into view, sitting on his bed like a puppy, he almost thought he’d been ratted out (it wouldn’t have been the first time, or ever the last time for somebody to catch on, even a man who kept his cards close to his chest showed a diamond or two.)

Instead, Harry smiled, it was as awkward as he was, yes, but it was genuine.

“Dr. Stanley I...I didn’t know,”

“Didn’t know what?”

“Ha, that um...you liked me, sir,”

Oh.

He was serious.

Either that or rejection was on the way,and at that point he’d prefer that (it had been so long, and surely he’d die from his own feelings having them accepted.)

Harry paused, before hovering (and then putting) his hand on his, he was soft, just like the rest of everything about him, unharmed by any sort of pain and suffering (only mentally, perhaps). 

“If you don’t want to talk about it thats okay, I do not wish to -- intrude on your feelings and --”

“Harry,”

He forgot what he was going to say after that, it didn’t matter really, instead he just looked at him, probably like an idiot, but his stomach twisted and turned around him, bursting open with moths anytime he got a smile out of him.  
  
When cutting open a vein, he had noticed, it only took a little slice of it to make it spew everywhere, that could be the same about him as well.

Stephen took him by the cheeks and kissed him, he never learned how to kiss like he wanted to (affection, even to another man was difficult), but he tried, partially banging his nose up against him in the process, holding the back of his head. Harry didn’t seem to mind, he relaxed at it and brought himself closer.

When he pulled away, it felt like his insides had been torn from his stomach, his intestines sprawled and tied to Harry. 

“I uh…”  
  
“Would you like me to do that again?” He knew nothing of foreplay, christ he hadn’t even kissed in such a long time -- back to being a boy, he supposed. Harry laughed.

“Mhm I..I would, I _really_ would,”  
  
It felt so wrong to hear those words from him, but alas, he ached (he always did, it hurt to not be able to touch anybody, to feel another’s warmth, just for a moment --).  
  
“I want a clear answer, Mr. Goodsir,” Never would he force himself, he was bitter but -- he knew better. Harry’s face went flush, “I won’t do it if you do not let me,”  
  
“ _Please_ ,” He looked down, then Harry kissed him, and kissed him and kissed him -- 

Stephen almost fell off his bed, this lost dog had bitten him right where it made him feel, he wasn’t rough (he knew Harry couldn’t manage cruelty, even if he was asked to be) but it was filled with heavy emotions.  
  
And of course, he kissed him back, he took him by the collar during it ( _don’t leave me now, I cannot bear to lose you now_ ).  
  
By the time he pulled away again, Stephen was shaking, Harry’s lips slightly bruised from the force given and aware -- Christ he was able to see so much. 

“Mr. Goodsir, may I...may I get dressed?”  
  
“Ah! So sorry I - Of course, Dr. Stanley,” He quickly attempted to make it to the door, but he took him by the han, his eyes wide.

“I think that was a clear answer, Mr. Goodsir,”  
  
“I hope it was,” He smiled, “I’ll uh...be waiting for you I suppose,” 

At that, he shut the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Gay people are once again winning <3


End file.
